


The Fling

by Made_Of_Love



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Implied Sexual Content, but no actual sexual content, lots of fluff, reader is female, uh first work so be kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 18:32:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5676265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Made_Of_Love/pseuds/Made_Of_Love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which you're sick of the world's bullshit and get away from it all, and Francis is there to pick up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fling

**Author's Note:**

> This is also posted on deviantart on my account MagixFire. I'm only going to post the stories I'm truly and utterly proud of here. So a bulk of the stories I write are here: http://magixfire.deviantart.com/
> 
> Anyway, enjoy your time with Francis.

Francis Bonnefoy would take vacations every year to some random place. He’d stay for about five or six weeks and then leave, never bringing home more than just a souvenir or two for himself and his friends. But not this time.

~ ~ ~

You lived in a small town. There was nothing at all special about it. The people there were friendly and things were within walking distance. The only recreation it really had was a small movie theater that showed old and new films, a small shopping center, a little jazz/blues café, and a park. People didn’t visit this town for anything other than to visit the park. It was a picture you would see on a postcard – a large pond with blue-purple, snowcapped mountains in the background surrounded by trees that became a rainbow of orange, yellow, and red in autumn. It was peaceful in the town, and that was all you wanted. Your previous life was in the big city, and it proved too fast paced for you. You had been used and abused by so many men you thought were “the one,” relationships were unimportant to you now, and you just wanted to get away. Hence, why you were here now. The town welcomed you, and you had gotten several cakes and gelatins as welcome gifts from your neighbors – a large change from when you had first moved into an apartment in the city and received little to no acknowledgement. You were uneasy at first, but slowly adjusted to life amongst these surprisingly accommodating people.

 **Day One**  
You worked in that café five nights a week as a waitress, usually working the bar. After living in the town for about a year, you had to admit seeing new faces of tourists that came down primarily each summer and winter was rather refreshing. They were usually just people like you who came from big cities and were looking for a short change of pace and staying at a nearby hotel or in little homes they bought or cabins they reserved in or near the mountains. There was a small resort in the hot springs located in the mountains that also drew in tourists. No one much cared so long as they were making money for the town.

You liked this pace, and it stayed that way until Francis Bonnefoy walked into that café, ordering a glass of red wine.

 **Day Ten**  
He was certainly one of the most attractive men to walk into the café and, quite possibly, into the town. And you decided the moment you saw him that you wanted nothing to do with him. You served him because it was your job, but you paid more attention to and started conversations with others. You didn’t think he would notice or care. He always seemed absorbed in the music. He would sit at the bar facing the stage while the low, blue-tinted lights would give him an air of mystery and exotic beauty. He would have a soft smile on his lips as he watched the players on stage play a smooth jazz number while a singer stood in a glittering dress putting her soul into the sound of her voice which carried smoothly through the air, complimented by the sultry sound of the saxophone and tinkling of a piano. But he noticed you, despite your plain appearance – a white blouse with a burgundy tie and black pants and plain black shoes, __e/c__ eyes, __s/c__ skin, and __h/c__ hair more often than not pulled back into a ponytail or pinned back with a silver hair clip or two.

“Miss,” he called to you, “Another glass, please.”

“Yes, sir,” you answered. That’s usually all you said. He had been coming there for a week, and you were both past the point of “What can I get for you, sir?” Now he just told you,

“The usual, miss.” He was the only customer who came here every night. Most young men would drive forty-five minutes to get to the city and go to a club before returning to the café for a late night drink, a quick meal to calm their munchies, or just a bartender to dump their woes on while they were in their drunken stupor.

“I’m the one customer you don’t pay much attention to,” Francis said as you handed him the glass.

“You’re also the only one who comes in every day. I assumed you were trying to make up for it this way,” you said dryly as you wiped the counter, scrubbing at an invisible smudge on the smooth mahogany wood. He chuckled.

“So what’s your name, miss?”

“I’m not looking to start anything,” you said. This was how it had always started when you were working and even before when you lived in the city. You met, gave him your name, eventually gave him your number, and after a few months of dating, he somehow against your better judgment managed to get you in bed with him. Your last boyfriend couldn’t get you into bed (you were more cautious now) which is why your last breakup was a rather ugly one. After that you had given up on relationships.

“I’m only asking your name, miss. Nothing more.” You blushed, but due to the low lighting it was near impossible to see. He made you feel like you were being rude, but you figured after all you had been through, you had a right to be. After a moment of debating with yourself, you gave him your name.

“It’s ______,” you muttered as you turned away to tend to other customers.

“______,” he muttered to himself as he watched you smile kindly at a man on the other end of the bar and hand him a beer.

 **Day Twelve**  
It was normal for the occasional drunk to come on to you. He had just gotten back from clubbing it seemed. He was dressed in black button up shirt with his red tie loosened. His hair was half gelled and you suspected that the other half had been sweated out and mussed by a feminine hand – if the lipstick stain on his neck was any indication. His eyes were glazed over and he stared at his drink with an almost confused look on his face before turning his attention back to you. His eyes lingered on your chest and feminine curves. His smiles were sloppy even. You rolled your eyes. You didn’t feel like dealing with this tonight. Some of the younger customers in their late teens and early twenties were in the café earlier and were rather rowdy – needy, demanding, and loud more than anything else. Their only redeeming quality wasn’t even really their quality but rather their money. They just tipped well – probably given the extra cash by their parents to leave the hotel room and do something. This man, however, would not tip well. Drunks rarely tipped well if at all. They usually ended up passed out and needing a friend to come pick them up, and, even if they didn’t pass out, you doubted they could even grab their wallet with such uncoordinated movements.

“Wha’s your nem?” he slurred out to you.

“A better question is, ‘What’s yours?’ and do you have a friend that can come pick you up?” you answered as you cleared the empty shot glasses that were before him. He shook his head then continued to eye you. You turned to leave when he tugged at your sleeve.

“What’s yur nam?” he repeated to you. You gently began to pry his fingers off of your arm, but he only tightened his grip.

“Sir, I –,” you started.

“Twenty dollars to leave the lady alone and twenty to get yourself a cab home.” It was Francis. The drunk man looked at the money confusedly as if he wasn’t sure what he was looking at but then gave the best smirk he could manage and grabbed the money before stumbling out of the café.

“I didn’t need your help,” you said as you began to clean the spot where the man was just sitting.

“I know,” he said with an amused look on his face that, for whatever reason, pissed you off. You huffed and began to refill the bowl that held pretzels for people that wanted to snack on something while they drank their alcohol. After watching you for a bit longer, Francis asked for a refill. It was his third glass of the night.

“You know, ______,” Francis began, “Most people would say thank you to people that help them – whether or not they needed it.”

“Thank you,” you snapped.

“You’re unusually testy with me. I don’t see you acting that way with other patrons in this establishment. Have I done something to offend you?” You earned the right to be rude on occasion, yes, but you just now realized that you may have just been a flat out bitch just then. You sighed.

“No. I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.”

“You spend a good amount of the time you work here, shouldering your customers’ troubles. Why not turn the tables for a bit? I’ll be willing to listen if you’re willing to talk.” Francis’s voice was as smooth as honey, and the way he said those words with that gleaming silver tongue almost made you want to. It made you want to pour yourself some hard whiskey and just finally have someone shoulder a little bit of it with you, but you didn’t know this man. And you didn’t want to.

“That’s nice of you, but I’m fine,” you said as you turned away to tend to something, anything, that wasn’t him.

About thirty minutes later you were ready to close everything down.

“Thank you, as usual, ______,” Francis said as he placed his money on the counter for his drinks as well as the tip he normally left (just as generous as teenagers with their dad’s credit card at their disposal).

“What’s your name?” you called out. You weren’t sure why you said it, but it was out there now.

“Francis. Francis Bonnefoy.”

 **Day Fifteen**  
You visited the shopping center on one of your days off. You walked to the grocery store to pick up a few things for dinner. You felt like having chicken and you needed some garlic and tomatoes and other fruits and vegetables to make the side dishes you intended to have.  
You smiled at Martha, the owner of the store as you walked in, grabbing one of the metal baskets and making your way down one of the aisles. “I should probably pick up some bread while I’m here,” you thought. As you were glancing through the different brands, you didn’t hear the footfalls approaching you.  
Francis had never seen you outside of your café uniform. You were cute with your hair not having pins or hair ties in it, and there was no plastered smile on your face like the one you usually had for your somewhat tipsy customers. You were in a plain shirt and jeans. Even your everyday wear was completely relaxed. Somehow you looked more attractive this way. Completely natural and comfortable – something you never seemed to be at the café.

“Bonjour, ______.” You jumped at the voice that was right next to you. There was Francis. Now that you weren’t under the dim lights of the café, you could see him much better – even though the fluorescent lights of the store weren’t even remotely flattering to anyone. He had his silky blonde hair put back into a ponytail and his azure eyes gazed at you warmly – as if he was seeing an old friend.

“Heh,” you gave a dry laugh, “What? Are you French now?”

“Oui. I’m surprised you didn’t notice,” he said with an amused look and a raised brow. You blushed a bit.

“I knew you had an accent. I didn’t bother to place it,” you muttered. “What are you doing here?” you asked.

“Doesn’t one come to the grocery store to shop?” he asked. His tone was just as amused as his expression. Your blush deepened.

“I know that,” you snapped, “I just never took you as one to cook was all. You don’t seem like the I-cook-my-own-meals type.”

“What type do I seem like?”

“You look like the I-pay-someone-to-cook-for-me type.”

“I take it you’re well acquainted with this type?”

“I used to see it a lot before I moved here. Now I only see it in some of the people that stop in the café.”

“Hmm. Well maybe one day I’ll let you taste something I make and you can give me your opinion.” You frowned at the floor, burning a hole in the piss yellow tiles and shifted back and forth on your feet. Francis was nice, but you’d met “nice” guys. You weren’t about to try this.

“That's nice of you, but I’m not interested,” you said as you prepared to leave.

“I noticed you’re only this distant with males.” You stopped and looked back at him.

“What?” Of all things he said that took you by surprise in the few short conversations the two of you had, this was one of the strangest ones he uttered.

“I said that you’re really distant with men that you think might take an interest in you.”

“And what? You think that because you used your psychological genius of human nature, that you earned some brownie points with me, and I’ll consider you date worthy?”

“No. I just wanted to apologize.” Your face scrunched in confusion.

“I don’t… understand….”

“For what that person or what multiple people did to make you this way. I’m sorry someone hurt you so bad, you’re not willing to let anyone reach out to you.” Your chest felt tight all of a sudden. You wanted to say something – to tell him to leave you alone or that he didn’t know what he was talking about and at the same time that he was completely and utterly correct. But you couldn’t force your voice past your lips. You just walked past him, not wanting to continue this conversation.

 **Day Sixteen**  
Even today you found yourself running into Francis. In the forest next to the park was a gazebo you found yourself visiting every afternoon in the summer. You liked to go there and sketch pictures of some of the wildlife if they ventured closely enough. When they didn’t, you were content just enjoying the fresh air, serene atmosphere, and the chirp of birds. And at night you liked to see the fireflies flicker and look at the stars through the boughs of the trees. You saw them much better here than you had in the city. Come to think of it, you couldn’t remember a single time you had stopped to admire anything remotely related to nature in the city. You were much like the people who stopped in the café to turn up before heading out to a club.

But as you approached the gazebo, you saw him sitting there, immersed in a book. His hair was tied back again with the strands in the front framing his handsome face. You stopped short of the gazebo upon spotting him and just stared. You wanted to go and sit in the gazebo and relax, but he unnerved you.

“If you’re just here to relax and enjoy the scenery, I don’t mind sharing,” he said without even looking up from his book. You walked quietly into the gazebo and sat on the other side as far away from him as possible. He was handsome and charming and he already seemed so much better than any other guy you’d ever been remotely interested in. You wanted to scream at him for being that way because you didn’t want to make those same mistakes you did before. You looked at him longingly. What he had said yesterday shook you more than you wanted to admit. You went home and cried because when you thought about it, none of those guys you had been with previously showed any remorse for how they were, and Francis apologized for all of them. You felt a few more tears welling up in your eyes – not because you were sad but because you were appreciative of such a gesture.

“Thank you,” you blurted. Francis looked up from his book to see a few stray tears running down your face.

“For what? Why are you crying?” He moved to your side and gently brushed the tears away.

“Thank you for apologizing, even if none of it was your fault. It meant a lot. I just should’ve been smarter about relationships.”

“It’s not your fault for wanting to find someone you could trust enough to give him your body. If anyone made a mistake, it’s anyone that has ever taken advantage of you – not realizing that someone who is willing to put in for a long term relationship is someone worth keeping.”

“I suppose you say that to all the girls,” you half joked.

“I’ve gone through a bad break up recently. I wanted to take things slow, and she thought that wasn’t exciting enough for her.”

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“It’s fine. You could say I came to such a small town to get away and clear my head.” The two of you sat silently for a while, just listening to the chirp of birds and the hum of some of the insects. You were content with this – being here, Francis, the sounds of nature, and the peace that came with letting go of anyone that had wronged you in the past. You just wanted to live in that moment for a while longer.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” Francis asked. You looked at him with a look of slight confusion as you tried to decipher what that could mean. “Not as a date,” he clarified, “As acquaintances.” You smiled. That sounded nice.

“Sure.”

The two of you ended up getting ice cream and walking around the shopping center in town. You told Francis about your life before you moved there, and he told you stories of his best friends back at home. It was nice.

 **Day Twenty**  
You had a nice smile. For the longest Francis had only seen the fake smile you offered up to customers in the café. But now he saw the genuine thing. When you weren’t tending to other customers, you were talking to him, and he made you laugh once, and your expression was certainly the brightest he’d ever seen it. And he liked it. He liked how much life you seemed to carry in that smile, and he hoped you would show him that smile more often.

“You would get more tips if you learned to smile the way you do when you laugh.” It was another one of Francis’s confusing sayings – when he’d say something that wasn’t what you expected of him.

“What makes you say that?”

“You have a nice smile. And I know men tip well to pretty waitresses.” You blushed a bit at him calling you pretty.

“Well their girlfriends don’t,” you retorted. It was an unusually slow evening. Anyone that was in the café were dining and drinking at the tables, and you and Francis were the only ones at the bar. You both had been munching on pretzels and chatting about the day (after all Francis was not there all day and all evening). He would tell you of all he ended up doing, which wasn’t much. He wasn’t that into clubbing and he didn’t feel the need to always visit the resort to relax. He even admitted that he’d rather be in the café at times just to be able to hear good music and sip wine.

“Do you want to dance?” Now this really threw you off. You thought he might’ve been joking, but his face was completely serious.

“What? Why?” He just shrugged.

“I just feel like dancing. Come on,” he said as he grabbed your hand led you around the counter to a small space just in front of the bar. He pulled you in, resting a hand on the small of your back and his other hand still gripping the one he led you with. He began to sway the two of you in a gentle motion, rocking in a circle in time to the slow jazz music. You were pressed close against him, and this went against everything you felt you moved here for. But you stayed put, swaying with him. Part of you was enjoying this. It was simply a dance and nothing more.

“Do you often just grab random girls to dance?” you asked. He chuckled.

“No. I don’t often feel like dancing.”

“So I’m just that lucky,” you joked.

“I’m the lucky one.” You blushed and thanked whatever god was listening that he couldn’t see it. The two of you ended up dancing to several songs – only sitting out the songs when you had a customer (however rare a moment that was) or when the music picked up to play a song with a quicker tempo.

“I had fun tonight,” you said to Francis as the café was closing and he was giving you the money for drinks (and his tip).

“I did too. It was nice to see you smiling and enjoying yourself.” He smiled at you before leaving. You smiled to yourself as you finished closing up. It felt like it had been forever since you ever really danced with anyone, and you had to admit that the feeling was a pleasant one.

 **Day Twenty-two**  
“I think you’d enjoy it,” Francis said. The two of you were sitting in your favorite reading spot discussing a little sweets shop he found in the city. He said it was a small store with cute decorations and generously sized dessert portions. You had a bit of a sweet tooth and debated whether or not you wanted to go. You and Francis had been spending quite a lot of time with each other. You could say you developed a very small friendship, but with his charm and good looks you were cautious as to whether or not you would be able to remain just friends. You wanted him. There was no doubting that, and yet….

“Is something troubling you, ______?”

“No, it’s nothing. I just… I’ll go,” you finally relented. He smiled gently.

“We can take my car.” You followed him to a light blue convertible. The car was so like Francis, light and airy and somewhat carefree and pleasing to look at.  
The little store was just as Francis made it sound – cute and sweet in appearance with the primarily colors being baby pink, robin’s egg blue, and a chocolate brown. It had a delicious smell coming from the shop.

You munched on a cupcake distractedly thinking about your complicated feelings for Francis, who watched you with cool blue eyes.

“Something on your mind, Cherie?” he asked before taking a bite of his own pastry.

“How do you be with someone without actually being with them?”

“You mean like a long distance relationship?”

“No. I mean, like, if you’re attracted to someone, but you don’t want a real relationship with them.”

“Like a fling.” You blushed. It sounded somewhat scandalous coming from someone else’s lips, but you couldn’t have summed it up any better if you had tried, so you nodded yes. Francis raised an eyebrow as he looked and smiled at you in amusement.

“I want that,” you said as you looked away and added, “With you.”

“I’ve already told you that I just got out of a bad relationship.”

“I know. And I’ve had a never ending chain of them. That’s why it’s a fling. No strings attached. No one’s feelings get hurt. We don’t even have to talk to each other when all this is over.” Francis seemed to think it over for a bit, making you feel more and more ridiculous with each passing second for ever having mentioned it.

“Alright.” You nearly choked on your food. After the one-sided awkward silence, you hadn’t been expecting that. You felt your face go red from embarrassment. What were you supposed to say to this? You’d been prepared for rejection, not this! “Are you okay, ______?” You nodded and sipped on your glass of water.

“I just wasn’t expecting you to say yes.”

“You were expecting a no?”

“More like a face of disgust and possibly leaving to catch a cab back to the town.” He chuckled.

“Even if I had disagreed, I wouldn’t be so cold as to leave a young lady by herself with no means of transportation.”

“So, um, h-how do things usually work?” Francis chuckled at your flustered state.

“A kiss is a good place to start.”

“Y-you work fast!” you snapped. Francis only found amusement in your reaction. He leaned over and gently grabbed your chin. Your heart was pounding in your chest, threatening to burst through your rib cage. It had been a long while since you had felt such a whirlwind of emotion or any sensation associated with romance. You tightly closed your eyes. Francis smiled before placing a quick peck on your nose. Your eyes snapped open and blinked at him in confusion then slight annoyance as he leaned back in his chair and continued nibbling on his pastry. So the Frenchman had a sense of humor.

“We can take things slow,” he said as he sipped his own water.

 **Day Twenty-Four**  
You laughed. By the way Francis described Gilbert’s relationship with his brother, you could tell that there was probably never a dull moment between them. The two of you continued chatting through your work, Francis sneaking in a few surprise kisses throughout the day – sufficiently flustering you. He said it was cute to see you that way. That didn’t help you compose yourself. Aside from the flirting and kisses, your day went on rather normally.

“Do you want to come over?” The words had tumbled out of your mouth. You were locking up, Francis sticking around this time to walk you home, when the idea had run through your mind. Francis was surprised, he hadn’t expected you to be quite so forward when and if you decided to invite him into your home.

“If it’s alright with you.”

“Of course,” you said as you turned to him and gazed into his eyes. He leaned down and kissed you. You still weren’t used to the spur of the moment kisses, but you had to admit that they were rather pleasing. His lips were soft and moved expertly against yours. You brought your arms around his neck and pulled him in closer and he did the same, wrapping his arms around your waist. His kisses were nothing short of exquisite. He slid his tongue over your bottom lip. You froze. Up to that point, the two of you hadn’t tried anything past kissing with your mouths closed. Francis sensed your hesitation and pulled away.

“We can try it another time,” he said in a gentle voice. You almost wished you were in an actual relationship with him. Almost. You just weren’t ready yet. You smiled and thanked him before the two of you started to walk back to your house.

“How long will you be here? I mean, how long will this fling last?” you asked once the two of you were walking up the stone path to your front door.

“About another two and a half weeks.”

“That’s not much time,” you muttered.

“Then we should make the most of the time we do have together,” he said lowly in your ear as you pushed the door open. At that moment you felt a shudder of arousal at the sensual tone of his voice. You spun around at that moment and pressed your lips to his. Francis was surprised – considering you had never been the initiator to any of your more tender moments before. But he got over it quickly, backing you through the doorway and closing it with his foot behind the two of you. You licked the bottom of his lip and he let you explore his mouth, returning the favor shortly afterward. He pressed you to the wall before breaking away from your mouth, your bodies pressed close together.

“That was different,” he said as he leaned his head against your forehead, “I liked it.” You tugged on his ponytail, letting the golden locks fall so you could run your fingers run through them as you brought him in for another kiss.

“I’m just trying to make the most of it,” you breathed. Your heart felt full enough to burst. After a dinner thrown together by Francis, the two of you retired to the couch for coffee and a movie. You leaned against him and his arm was resting along the back of the couch. Once the movie ended Francis pulled you into his lap and peppered your face with kisses.

“I feel as if this is a proper goodnight,” he said in between kisses.

“It doesn’t have to be goodnight,” you said with a blush on your face that made you feel as if your face was ablaze.

“Are you sure you want to go that far? We’ve only just started this.”

“No emotions attached right?” Francis leaned down to kiss you before indulging you in a night of passion.

 **Day Thirty**  
After the night the two of you first slept together, you each ended up spending the night with each other every day after that (not just for sex). You found comfort in Francis that you couldn’t find in anyone else. You were laughing more and smiling more, and even though you knew this would be over in about twelve days, you felt that you needed this. The way Francis said it, he made it seem as if you deserved this. All the nights of passion made you feel alive again in a way you hadn’t felt when you were with other men. You had avoided and hidden from feeling something similar to affection for so long, you had forgotten how euphoric it could make you. And now you weren’t worried about the down side because there wasn’t one. It wasn’t like all those times where you had so foolishly given yourself away, believing empty promises of a future and meaningless words of love.

Your panting had slowed to steady, even breaths. You snuggled close to Francis, having just finished a bout of sex. You had been a tad uneasy after the first time the two of you were intimate. He wasn’t in bed when you awoke and a familiar feeling of stupidity for giving into him engulfed you, but he walked in not thirty seconds later with breakfast in bed. You couldn’t deny that Francis really knew how to treat a lady. It made you wonder how he was single. He was everything a woman could want in a man, and yet here he was. With you. Looking to have a little fun without the hassle of drama like you were.

He let his finger trace shapes lazily on your skin while you rested your head against his chest. Neither of you were much for pillow talk – content with merely enjoying each other’s company.

If you had fallen for anything, it was the moments like this one. The moments of knowing what a lover’s embrace would feel like. The moments of feeling like someone cared. The things denied to you before were now yours, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t look forward to them quite often. Francis was fun, introducing you to new and exciting experiences. The memory of the two of you dancing in the bar that one day flashed through your mind, and it was enough to make you smile a bit and snuggle deeper into him.

“Something the matter, mon cher?” he asked, blue eyes glancing down at you.

“No. I’m just… happy.” And it was true. It had been a while since you felt anything besides mere content towards life.

“Me too,” he said, holding you closer.

 **Day Thirty-Eight**  
Francis gave you intimacy in the place of sex at times. You were happy with this arrangement. It had taken you a while but you finally took that leap of faith – whether it was because you knew your feelings wouldn’t get hurt or because for the first time someone was making that leap with you, you weren’t sure. You just knew that Francis was the kind of man you could fall in love with. And you told him so.

“You really think so? I’m honored,” he said as he cuddled you closer. The two of you were watching the morning news and munching on fruit and chocolate for breakfast.

“If it had been a different time, if we had been looking for a relationship, then do you think we could have had something?”

“There isn’t a doubt in my mind, mon ange,” he said, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. It was strange. You didn’t know much about flings, but weren’t the supposed to be occasional dates and maybe a bout or two of sex? Francis and you had been acting like newlyweds. The more you thought about it, the stranger it seemed, but you also knew that you were content and didn’t care.

“We act like newlyweds,” you muttered against his lips as he placed them on yours.

“Do we now?” he said, working his magic tongue and fingers as only he could.

“Mm-hm,” you hummed as your mind began to melt away. He pulled away and smiled a sultry smile as he eyed your beautifully flushed face.

“How about I take you out properly tonight? There’s an Italian place a little ways away that I want to take you to. It’s not French, but it’s the best I could find.”

“That sounds like fun,” you said while placing butterfly kisses up and down his neck. Francis ran his hands up and down your thighs.

“But first, how about we try something different?”

“Different how?”

“Let’s try something newlyweds don’t attempt on the honeymoon.” The two of you had been at this sort of thing for a while, and he still made you blush by being so suggestive.

“Shall we take this to the bedroom then?”

“Non. I was thinking we try something out right here,” he said as he pinned you beneath him and began to suck on your collar bone.

 **Day Forty**  
“I’m going to miss you,” you said. You and Francis were lying in bed, unable to sleep for whatever reason.

“I’ll keep in contact with you. I’ll call and write. I’m… reluctant to let you go to be honest.”

“Did you fall for me?”

“A bit. But I’m not going to move forward. Not until I know you want it too.”

“I might want it eventually. You’re exactly what I want and seem to be everything that I need. You make me happy, so when all this is over, just know that I’ll always have you in mind. You kind of left an impression that I’ll never be able to shake now.”

“Good,” he said before pulling you into a slow, sweet kiss, “Because I have a feeling that I’ll be waiting for you.”

 **Day Forty-Two**  
You stood next to Francis’s car. Neither of you were sure of what to say to the other because both of you weren’t very good at goodbyes, so he just held you close and placed the occasional kiss on your forehead.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll contact you so often that you won’t have time to miss me.”

“But I’ll miss the nights out, the little dances in the café, the night in cuddling and watching movies.”

“The sex,” he said with smirk. You blushed.

“I’m actually going to miss that more than I’m willing to admit.” He chuckled.

“Not to sound cliché, but this isn’t goodbye for us. I’m going to come back for you and one day I’ll make you mine.”

“What if you find someone else?” You looked up at him, with eyes that held the doubt that others had built up. But then he kissed you hard and passionately.

“I’m going to come back, ________.”

“And I’ll be waiting.”

With that Francis hopped into his car and with a final wave and a blown kiss he drove off. You watched him until his car was out of sight.

**Author's Note:**

> I truly hope you enjoyed this story, and I look forward to writing more.


End file.
